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"Does he work at the dairy?"
"Yeah, I'm going to stop by his office tomorrow and talk to him."
"Who's the other guy?"
"You know what? I don't want to waste time talking about my potential sperm donor." He set the tablet aside and pulled her to him.
Her eyes flew open in surprise but then she smiled. "I wouldn't call talking about something that's important to you a waste of time. I like being here for you."
"Oh, you do? Well, I like you being here for me, too," he said, sliding his hands down her rib cage to the hollow of her hip. He dipped his head and dropped a kiss on the sweet spot beneath her hip bone.
Abigail sighed. "Oh, man, I love being your booty call."
"You're not my booty call. I'myourbooty call." He peppered kisses along her jaw, working his way toward her mouth.
Abigail groaned. "It's late. I have to go."
"Let's make out a little while longer," he said, brushing his mouth against her lips. She sighed and he took that as a yes and kissed her thoroughly.
Her hands tangled in his hair before one slid down his back. Abigail broke the kiss and looked at him. "I'm so getting addicted to you."
That made him smile. Mutual addiction. Nice. Abigail's eyes reflected exactly what he felt - sublime happiness in the time they spent together.
Damn, she looked so beautiful with her tangled, dark hair falling across her bare shoulders, those sleepy green eyes shining at him, and those bee-stung lips beckoning. He lost himself in this woman.
He dropped a kiss on her nose. "Making love is a great addiction. Fabulous upside."
"Unless you get genital warts... or pregnant. Could be a very uncomfortable downside. College is expensive," she quipped.
"There's that," he laughed, giving her a little squeeze, knowing she had to go.
Abigail shifted, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "Birdie woke up last night and I wasn't there. She said something sarcastic this morning at breakfast. I shifted the conversation, but I know she suspects. I feel like at any moment she's going to point a finger and condemn me as a whore."
“Enjoying sex doesn’t make you a whore.”
“It does if your daddy is a preacher.”
“I’m not going to attempt to touch that, but maybe you’re selling your father short. Everyone sins. And what we’re doing doesn’t feel wrong. And Birdie is at a difficult age. That’s what tweens do- they ride a wave of lunacy."
She pulled on a pair of faded jeans and an old Henley shirt that had likely been Cal's. Leif didn't like that idea.”
“Yeah, I knew this stage would be hard, but I'd really rather she revert to eating crayons and flushing my socks down the toilet like she used to. Birdie still holds on to the delusion of her daddy and me waking up to sunshine streaming into our bedroom window and her bringing in a tray of toast and juice. A freaking commercial for happy family-after."
"She's a kid. They all want the Beaver Cleaver experience."
"Yeah, and Cal's being present in our lives isn't really helping. Yesterday, I came home to him on the porch with a hammer and nails fixing a loose board. Birdie had cookies and milk on the swing. Another commercial-worthy moment."
Leif tried to dam the jealousy coursing through him. He had no right to feel that way. From the beginning, they’d both accepted that they had no strings attached. But he had to remind himself. Constantly. ''Consider it free labor."
Abigail nodded."That's a good way to look at it"
Leif didn't say anything as she slid into her UGG knockoffs, looking, for once, like a teenager instead of a mom. Abigail didn't care about fashion when it came to getting to him, though he appreciated the lace and satin waiting beneath her mom jeans or sloppy pajama pants. "Will I see you tomorrow?"
He always asked.
"Probably not. We're having a small wedding shower for Shelby."
"Damn."
